


Unfortunate Predicaments

by cadetcandito



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Crushes, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Light-Hearted, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadetcandito/pseuds/cadetcandito
Summary: Haruhi muses about life in the host club, unknowingly mustering her thoughts, loud enough for a certain shadow king to hear. Reposted from ff.net!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this little Haruhi/Kyouya fic back in 2007. Its existence was brought to my attention when I was notified by my email that it was somehow still receiving reviews on ff.net 11 years later?! 
> 
> Decided to clean this little ficlet up, and try to continue where I left off all those years ago. Wish me luck!

The afternoon was long and draggy, an unfortunate predicament for a certain brown haired cross-dresser named Fujioka Haruhi. Although the Third Music Room was equipped with sufficient air conditioners to accommodate their guests' apparent sensitive and fragile skin, the brown eyed teenager still had a few beads of sweat forming at the base of her forehead. The weather was just not compliant with her that day.

"Oh well," she muttered, "at least I'm not stuck in the sweltering heat outside for some frivolous picnic of sorts."

Haruhi sighed in resignation, remembering the last time her half-French senior try in vain to dress her in a long and lacey gown from what seemed to be the Victorian era. It was complete with a matching bodice and umbrella, especially prepared for a picnic in the academy's grounds. As it was to be expected, the twins were snickering in the background at her disgusted expression, whispering things to each other that the scholarship student would rather not know. She could have sworn her left eye was twitching in irritation.

As for the dress, she blatantly refused it without a second thought, leaving the blonde haired President moping in a corner of the room, a dark aura enveloping him. Haruhi was accustomed to his consistent mood swings, so she paid his brooding no heed.

The shadow king was somewhere in the background, a sly smirk pasted on his features as he jotted down notes on his infamous journal.

Watching her fellow club members fool around with the obviously smitten young ladies within the same pink, four walls as her, Haruhi sank deeper into the sofa she was seated in, almost sure that no one was paying attention to her. A perfect time to slack around.

Sometimes, she wondered why she never fell for the other hosts' charm or their wit. True, she admitted that the rich young men were indeed handsome, but strangely not enough to warrant her attention and utmost admiration. At least not enough for her to admit to herself, anyway.

"Oh Tamaki-kun! Tell me more!" a girl squealed as she swooned from the opposite side of the room. Judging plainly from her plaited hair that hung in rings, tied with somewhat gaudy purple ribbons on her petite blonde head, as well as the seemingly humanly impossible amount of jewelry adorned on her neck and arms, the girl was definitely one of the princesses whose families Kyouya would absolutely love to have good ties with. That plan obviously progressing smoothly. The shadow king was definitely good with accomplishing anything he set his mind to, and he was, needless to say, more enthusiastic when some sort of profit, be it in financial or other terms, was involved.

Speaking of the devil, the dark haired sophomore was standing more than just a few meters away from the Host Club's President, inadvertently taking notes on his small, leather clad journal. Beneath the glare from his oval glasses, Haruhi was almost sure she saw Kyouya's eyes twinkle in amusement. Fascination? Or was it in accomplishment, the joy of a job well done? Immediately, Haruhi dismissed the latter thought from her mind.

Kyouya, genuine? Those two words were as unlikely a pair as Mori-senpai chattily going on a double-date with Tamaki. Haruhi fought the impulse to shiver at the notion.  

The aforementioned shadow king, she deduced, does not have the capacity to feel such innocent and altruistic emotions like happiness, generosity, and care. Jealousy, cunning, and selfishness were the characteristics she half-expected the avaricious future businessman was only capable of. After all, he was the one who first imposed the arguably impossible-to-repay debt to her, which she had long neglected to keep track of, due to the many other complications and additional debts within her strange, albeit interesting stay in the Host Club.

For instance, he added yet another twenty thousand yen to her ever increasing debt due to her unintentional ripping a small portion of what he claimed was an ancient 'Ming' dynasty shawl. If it was that expensive, why was it displayed so openly that oblivious people like her were very likely to trip over it? Haruhi smelled something fishy.

Anyway, she only saw the glimmer from his steely grey eyes before they resumed their former refuge beneath the reflection of his thin-rimmed glasses within a split second. If she had not been caught by his stunning onyx shaded eyes, the brown eyed teen would have reckoned that she just imagined such a peculiar thing happening.

Wait a minute. Hold up. Back up. Haruhi slid her thin fingers in her ruffled tresses. Did she just tell herself that the ever rich bastard, Kyouya Ootori's eyes were  _stunning_?

"Who's a rich bastard?"

Frozen for a moment, the 'natural type' slowly turned around from her reclined position in the couch. While muttering under her breath, Haruhi met the cool steely gaze of her ebony haired sempai.

"Err, some guy in school."

Well, that was true. Just vague. Extremely vague at that.

"Oh? Is there any chance that I'd know him?"

 _Great_ , Haruhi's subconscious chastised,  _you're sinking in deeper and deeper into a web of lies. He obviously planned this. It won't be long when you'll be paying another few thousand yen for, what, dishonesty and disrespect to your seniors? It never ends. It's still a mystery why your father worships the road Kyouya-sempai walks on…_

 _Shut up,_ Haruhi berated herself _, and think of a good alibi._

"Maybe? I'm not sure if you know him, senpai…" she replied with a stutter.

So much for good alibis…

"You clearly underestimate my networking skills yet again, Haruhi. Obviously we'd have to do some research on whoever that rich bastard of yours is, for him to have such  _stunning eyes_." Kyouya said, aforementioned glimmer of interest making a re-entry to his bright grey orbs yet again.

"Renge's doujinshi series has been bringing some profit in," he continued, "and I reckon whoever this mystery guy of yours could nonetheless increase the income of the club by allowing himself to be part of the doujinshi. This would allow you to pay your debt off earlier. You do want that, don't you?" the vice president finished, raising his eyebrow in anticipation.

_You are in SO much trouble._

_Oh zip it._


	2. Chapter 2

" _You do want that, don't you?" the vice president finished, raising his eyebrow in anticipation._

_You are in SO much trouble._

_Oh zip it._

"Kyouya-senpai…" Haruhi started after a few seconds of thought, "don't you think interrogating me in matters of personal nature infringes upon my rights to privacy?"

 _Finally, I'm able to think of a somewhat decent reply_ , she thought with a tinge of relief.

 _You're saying that now, but he's going to come up with some kind of deranged way to get back at you_ , her subconscious retorted.

_I don’t even have the luxury to worry about my future now._

The megane-kun was slightly taken aback by her innocent inquiry. He had definitely not expected such a response from the demure, albeit blunt teenager. It should not have been so much of a surprise though.

 _The girl is a scholarship student after all_ , Kyouya mused. _Plus, her late mother was a lawyer._ _Genes…_

"Senpai?"

Jolting out of his reverie, the shadow king was about to reply Haruhi, but a sudden, high pitched squeal interrupted him. It took less than a second to realize where, or rather who the sound emanated from.

"Haru-chaaaan!"

The vertically challenged blonde instantaneously latched himself upon Haruhi's back, eliciting a small "umph" from her.

"Let's eat cake!" Honey-senpai started with enthusiasm dripping from his voice, his saccharine-induced smile somewhat infectious.

"Takashi bought my favorite today, strawberry and peach cheesecake! It's imported all the way from Switzerland, made with real Swiss cheese!"

Still trying to catch her breath, the brown haired cross dresser stuttered, "Honey-sempai… I'm rather-"

"Don't you want to eat cake with me? Have I been bad?"

As unexpected as his appearance, the loli-shota's facial features suddenly transformed from an overly zealous expression into becoming on the brink of tears. His large, marigold tinted orbs shone with tears yet to be shed. In addition, his lower lip quivered in such a way that would surely make his designations coo and get a hold of everything in their grasp to appease the irresistibly adorable young man.

One might consider that Honey-senpai probably spent quite a lot of time perfecting this countenance in front of a mirror, but we would never really know.

Although she should have been used to this kind of scenario after being in the Host club for quite some time, Haruhi easily conceded. She, like the other members of the Host club, remembered clearly how a sweet-deprived Honey could be fairly lethal to those around him.

No matter how many times she thought of it, the idea of the rabid senpai never ceased to terrify Haruhi. If she was not mistaken, the infamous bite scar still remained on Tamaki's arm. It was a living testimony of the reality that Honey-senpai had the innate ability to lose his cute and lovable persona and change into, excuse the language, a venomous monster from hell.

Without fail, the Haninozuka proceeded to drag the brown eyed scholarship student towards another part of the spacious room where the other tall and lanky senpai stood.

The Morinozuka was carrying an absolutely luscious cake topped with delectable slices of strawberries and peaches and a generous serving of cream. It seemed that even _looking_ at the aforementioned pastry could make any individual gain calories. Yes, it was that sweet.

Kyouya stood there, almost gaping, because an Ootori _never_ gapes openly, at what happened so abruptly in an expanse of a minute before his eyes. If he were to be ever so dramatic like his half French classmate, tumbleweed would have floated past. Of course, the dark haired sophomore was not a single bit common with Tamaki in that aspect. Being the cunning future businessman that he is, he merely stood back and shifted his glasses in the angle that made them opaque; unreadable.

A small but evident smirk graced his features as he saw Haruhi uncomfortably eat the cake that was forced upon her. It was quite obvious, in Kyouya's eyes that is, that a single slice of the scrumptious concoction was more than a week's worth of her lunch money.

His smirk widened somewhat as he noticed the brown eyed girl cast sidelong glances at him. It amused him even more when she became suspiciously overly attentive to a particular chocolate stain on the sleek mahogany table when she realized that he was looking at her, as well.

_So that's how you want to play, eh, Haruhi-chan?_

Haruhi let out the breath she didn't know she was holding as the day's host club session ended. One of the last few to leave, Honey-senpai exited the Third Music Room with promises of more sugary delights of epic proportions, Mori-senpai in tow.

The twins and Tamaki had left earlier, the trio deep in conversation about next week's visit to the commoner fast food centre. It was one of the few things that they had a common interest in, and as long as their plans didn’t involve her in any way, Haruhi did not really care.

Letting out a sigh, Haruhi carried her own bag and was ready to exit the room when the dark haired Vice President called her.

"Haruhi, I know that I was the rich bastard you referred to this afternoon."

Haruhi froze at the sound of his words, still facing the door. Shock was coursing through her veins. She had not noticed that Kyouya was still in the room, still typing away on his laptop, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes

Nor did she really notice him get up and walk towards her.

“Well, I wasn’t completely certain,” Kyouya drawled. Even when she wasn’t facing him, Haruhi could sense that he was smirking as he spoke.

“I didn’t have concrete evidence, but your stunned silence simply confirms my suspicion.”

Wrapping his hands delicately around her small waist, he whispered into her ear sultrily, "Now that we’ve got that out of the way, the question is, what are we going to do about it?"

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Hehehe. How do you feel about the growing tension between our two lead characters? Lemme know in the comments! 
> 
> Chapter 3’s already been written, and will be up soon~


	3. Chapter 3

Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, Haruhi strolled down the aisles of the local convenience store. Her large brown eyes browsed through the sundry labels on the various tin cans of tuna.  _Which one should I buy today?_

It was a sunny Sunday morning: the best time, in the teenager's opinion, to do the groceries as there was no crowd to tussle about with.

Most of the town was still fast asleep in the comfort of their warm beds. Her father was one of them. Fujioka Ranka was probably snoring away in his own futon, dreaming about no one else than his beloved daughter and protecting her from a certain feisty blonde.

The store was completely void of life, except for Haruhi, the lethargic storekeeper, and the owner's unbelievably large ginger cat. Both of the latter were napping peacefully near the counter.

Although theft could easily occur in such a scenario, the townspeople generally trusted each other and believed in the good of humanity. 

The town where Haruhi lived was not as unsophisticated as a hamlet, per se, but it was not as modern and bustling as present-day Tokyo, either. More like a hybrid of the two, the residential area was plotted just outside the central business district, rife with diversity and calm. 

 

Rather than competitively trying to outdo one another, as is the mentality of most city folk, members of the community generally looked out for each other. It was a utopia of sorts, where its people were warm, friendly, and selfless. 

However, the townsfolk were still human, and one could sometimes not help but be a busybody and gossip about the latest the neighbours were up to. As of late, the subject of such conversations revolved around Haruhi and the posh limousines that mysteriously appeared out of nowhere from time to time outside the Fujiokas' humble flat.

To be more precise, most of the ladies, especially the elder ones, could not help but be interested in the handsome and statuesque young men (except, of course, for Honey-sempai) that exited the limousines. Who could not resist contemplating the possibilities of these men within the Fujioka household, especially if their beloved Haruhi were involved? 

 

It was common knowledge that the doe-eyed girl's mother had passed away when Haruhi was just a child. Immediately after her passing, Ranka, in depression-induced denial, began to overwork himself nonstop, hardly spending time at home. Worried after the young girl's well being, many of the citizens in the community served as quasi-parental figures to Haruhi. It takes a town to raise a child, indeed.

Needless to say, Haruhi became quickly doted upon by her neighbours. Generous _bentos_ were prepared for her night and day throughout her schooling years, and she also became the recipient of random, intermittent gifts -- some succulents from the local gardener, or a teddy bear made from leftover stuffing and fabrics by the local seamstress who was between projects. 

The townspeople were enamoured by the brown eyed child. Her brusque ways of speaking and apparent boyishness were one of mere few characteristics they were unable to refine. Otherwise, Haruhi was a dignified citizen of society, something she couldn't have attained without her town's generous support. 

Perhaps, the townspeople did more than necessary in equipping the brown haired girl for the 'outside world', as even those with the most rigid of countenances fell prey to Haruhi's wit and simple charm. Ootori Kyouya is one of them.

In the driver's seat of a Honda rather than his usual Mercedes (with his networking, he realized that the limos did attract too much unwanted, vulgar attention), the shadow king sported a pair of shades and a commoner's usual garb of a loose-fitting shirt and faded jeans. As much as he preferred designer outfits to what he considered typical clothing, he felt a strange yearning to watch the oblivious teenager that morning. Call him a stalker, if you will, and with a click of a button, the dark-haired sophomore might just sic a rabid martial arts national champion at you.

Kyouya was unconsciously rubbing his right cheek, which was a bit pinkish, but generally not noticeable unless you really stared at his face. He had been doing this for some time now, while silently observing the scholarship student look through the various fruits on display, deciding which one to purchase.

His thoughts winded back to last week, to his "one-to-one" time with Haruhi after school.

 

* * *

 

_Placing his hands around her small waist, he whispered into her ear in a sultry tone, "The question is, what am I going to do about it?"_

_The brown-haired teenager shivered slightly from the contact but nonetheless remained motionless. Her lips parted as though to say something, but she closed them again when nothing came out. The vice president's embrace tightened, but not so much that it would suffocate her._

" _What is it, Haruhi?"_

_No response came from the short haired girl._

" _Don't have anything to say? Because I think that you should be punished for having the audacity say these things about your seniors, don't you think so?"_

_His voice dropped an octave or so from its usual pitch, becoming what most females would consider sexy and seductive. To Haruhi, however, his tone seemed glazed with, ironically, an iciness that hinted a tinge of anger. Or was it hurt?_

_Kyouya, after all, was the Shadow King. If anyone could easily mask his emotions, it was him. So why was he opening up to her, now of all times? Was it a set up to get her to be in greater debt to him or something? She could easily read the twin's actions and tell them apart, but Kyouya was a different category altogether._

_The scholarship student was dumbstruck with the sudden turn of events._ _Lost in thought, Haruhi remained unresponsive to the other's advances._

_Soon irritated and uncomfortable with her inaction, the ebony haired youth released his grasp on Haruhi, gripping her shoulders instead. He turned her around roughly, and they were suddenly face-to-face._

_Kyouya's eyes, Haruhi noted, although still indeed stunning, were at the same time filled with echoes of the same pain she heard from his voice. His usually unreadable onyx orbs now seemed clouded with emotion._

" _Am I just a rich bastard to you? Tell me, Haruhi. Is this what I only mean to you, someone constantly after your neck just because you broke a stupid vase?"_

Slap.

" _You're being pretty small-minded if you think I only think of you as a rich bastard, senpai. I expected you, of all people, to know that I respect you a little more than that."_

_With her uncharacteristic outburst, Haruhi wiggled out of Kyouya's loosening grip on her, grabbed her fallen bag, and walked briskly out of the room, leaving the dark haired sophomore with a bright red mark on his cheek, jaw slightly opened, and a stunned expression on his features._

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the week, both members of the Host Club actively avoided each other. When there was a club meeting, either one would politely excuse themselves from the other's presence. Tamaki, Hikaru and Kaoru were oblivious to the tension, being too excited in planning their outing to the commoner's fast food area. And Honey-senpai was, as usual, far too preoccupied with his cakes.

It was only Mori-senpai who, after no one else was near enough to hear, offered Kyouya some insightful advice. 

"You don't seem yourself. Talk to her."

"Senpai, how did you-?"

Mori's only response was a shrug, and he turned away from Kyouya's inquisitive gaze.

Kyouya suddenly became curious about how his senior managed to stealthily gather information. 

Getting the quiet senior to socialize was quite an outstanding feat in itself. Kyouya did not know which was more shocking, the usually silent kendoist saying these seven words to him, or that Mori-senpai somehow found out about his encounter with Haruhi. Never underestimate your senior's sixth sense. 

 

* * *

 

_(Back to the present time)_

 

Kyouya's hand moved from rubbing his cheek to massaging his temples. Too many things had happened this week. It was agonizing; despite his usual capacity to cleanly organize all the facets of his life, he had acted on impulse and let his self-control slip past his fingers.

Now, the only strategy left for him was damage control - to salvage whatever was left of his relationship with Haruhi, before things further snowballed into oblivion. 

Finally, he noticed that Haruhi was finished purchasing groceries good enough to last the week. It was surprising how her thin frame could manage the countless bags that seemed double her size and weight. Rolling a tinted window as she walked unknowingly towards his car, he called out to her.

"Haruhi." 

Uncomfortably juggling the heavy food packages, Haruhi furrowed her brows as she tried to identify the source of the voice. It was awkwardly familiar to her. Finally spotting Kyouya with his gaudy sunglasses, the brown-eyed teen replied warily, "Senpai?"

Kyouya gathered whatever semblance of courage he has accumulated in his short years training to be a businessman. 

 _This is it_ , he thought, _now or never_. 

"Haruhi, will you have lunch with me? We need to talk."

 

_TBC?_


End file.
